Like a newborn, the creature appeared before us. Its mouth, a faded gray, opened slightly, revealing a scattering of sparse, yellowed teeth.
A soft sob pierced the air, interrupting the gruesome feast of the creatures. They turned their attention towards us, their gaze, though sightless, filled with a ravenous hunger. Shadows stirred, and countless silhouettes emerged, shuffling closer to the dim light that illuminated our presence.
"They love the living," the monster murmured, shaking the near lifeless carcass in his hands. His gaze locked with the bloodthirsty auras emanating from the creatures, and with a twisted giggle, he hurled the maimed creature to the ground. It crawled a short distance on its broken limbs, its desperation to survive palpable, inching millimeter by millimeter closer to our presence.
Slurping sounds filled the air, intermingling with the sickening noises of tearing flesh and cracking bones. I could only watch helplessly as a gray haze enveloped the creatures surrounding their defenseless victim.
After what felt like an eternity, the creatures withdrew, their grisly meal complete. I could see nothing but a wet and chilling stain on the floor, the remnants of a life extinguished.
Through the haze of pain, I clenched my fingers, the bone in my palm breaking and slicing through the air as the voice of the system abruptly awakened.
[Survival Mission in the Lower Arena.
Update.
Conditions:
Kill 267 enemies.
263 enemies were killed.
Remaining time:
19 hours.]
Damn it.
I had completely forgotten.
In the blackened expanse, I had only managed to slay three, so from where had the other emerged?
[A woman named Serena was gravely wounded and her life was abruptly extinguished just moments ago. I deemed her death significant enough to mention.]
[That's how.]
And death claimed another.
Letting out a sigh, I nearly overlooked a crucial detail.
[Where can I find the remaining 263 enemies?!]
I stared at the grinning Low Loss and the swarm of jelly-like creatures surrounding him, their grotesque forms pulsating with a sickening vitality.
[18 hours, 59 minutes, and 43 seconds.]
Are you kidding me?
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I made up my mind to approach the monster.
"Gla, Hisyadlu..." *Where are the others?* I mentally coughed several times, assuming a pensive expression. Loss halted and turned towards me.
The monster's mouth twitched uncertainly, and it patted its stomach.
"Lou?" he raised his index finger and traced a circle in the air with his claws. Then, Loss placed his hand on the purple spots of his folds once again.
What did he mean by that?
Narrowing my gaze, I glanced upward and noticed rusty hooks dangling from the ceiling.
My pupils dilated.
This...
[Participant 137 had a strong emotional reaction. Precautions are being taken. High-risk zone. Participant 137, in a few seconds, your body will come under autonomous control. Participant 137...]
My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of the suspended carcasses of monsters. How had I not noticed this before?
Rotted corpses dangled lifelessly, perhaps having been hung in this place for weeks or months. Carcasses in various stages of decay stretched endlessly, forming an unending mass.
Their lifeless legs swung, countless beings that were already dead, had been silently "observing" me for a considerable time.
Decaying body parts cascaded to the floor, and I caught glimpses of how these fragments merged with the towering mound, becoming sinewy as they amalgamated.
I felt the urge to vomit, but my body turned toward the Loss without any commands from my brain. Black spots danced before my eyes before I finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
---
[The Mission ends in 5 minutes and 3 seconds.]
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I regained consciousness at the moment when I found myself clutching a severed child's hand in my own.
Her plump fingers were tightly clenched in a death grip.
A rush of air escaped my lungs in a single breath. The buzzing in my ears drowned out the sounds of the operating machinery.
My claws pierced through the soft flesh. In disbelief, I glanced up at the moving conveyor belt.
Hundreds more identical pieces of flesh barely trembled there—human flesh.
I ran my hand along someone's head, pressing my palm against my mouth as I leaned to the side and vomited.
"Rha, Rha," gray fragments of my own insides fell to the floor with a thud, and I shut my eyes.
I was sorting children.
I.
Was sorting.
Children.
This body had decayed to such an extent that its receptors no longer discerned any flavors.
Yet, I was still repulsed.
I had completely forgotten that children existed in this abhorrent realm.
Such a twist had caught me off guard, leaving me utterly unprepared.
Weak or strong, what difference did it make?
All fighters were supposed to have a choice, but did they truly have one...
I glanced back at the conveyor belt. Scarlet blood trickled down the grooves on the sides of the moving tape.
My heart pounded louder than a revving engine.
I trembled with fear and disorientation as something struck me forcefully from behind.
"How many times do I have to tell you NOT to EAT the OFFERING?" a distinctively human voice admonished from behind.
Spitting out a decaying tooth, I hunched over in pain. The blow had landed with great force, striking my vertebra, and it ignited a fiery anger within me. I was furious with my surroundings, with myself. I yearned to release all the pent-up negativity that consumed me.
"GRAAA. GLU. MIE." *I will kill* I growled, turning towards the voice, only to be met with the sight of a thin man in a white coat.
Raising my right hand, I prepared to crush the skull of this mere mortal, but before I could act upon my murderous instincts, another monster rammed my head onto the moving conveyor belt.
A foot came into view, propelling towards me with a swift motion. Soon, my stomach and chest were torn open, oozing pus. I struggled to defend myself against the onslaught, my massive body proving clumsy and disadvantaged against the relentless grip that held me in place.
Chunks of flesh smacked against my face, exacerbating my panicked state. I could feel the wet slaps against my cheeks as the limbs transformed into a chaotic mass, obstructing my view.
"Murder. Murder," something screamed within me. My bones creaked under the pressure applied by the one who held me captive. Straining my neck, I managed to lift my right cheek, desperate to see the face of the one tormenting me.
"WHAT KIND OF OFFERING?" I bellowed, my voice a guttural snarl. "DO YOU JUST TOLERATE THE SIGHT OF DEAD CHILDREN?"
"That's enough," a voice interjected, cutting through the chaos. "It was not enough to request workers again." The guy seemed visibly displeased with the situation, though he lacked a valid reason to kill me.
I exhaled through my fangs, infuriated by his thoughts.
Bastard.
With a surge of determination, I flexed my shoulder, striving to break free and reduce the man to a pulp of mashed flesh. Fighting against the decaying grip that threatened to suffocate me, I strained to wriggle out.
But suddenly, someone's fingers tightened around my neck, lifting me into the air before cruelly slamming me onto the floor.
Ribs involuntarily cracked under the impact. My vision blurred, and I struggled to breathe, my breaths coming out hoarse and ragged.
"Don't bother me," the man with the gold-rimmed glasses interjected, his spectacles gleaming brightly. "Unless you want to experience all kinds of pain."
A smile played on his pale lips, revealing teeth filed into sharp triangles, as white as snow.
"Although I'm not sure if you can comprehend me," he continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "But I'm certain you'll find yourself in dire straits nonetheless."
I watched as the monsters surrounding the white silhouette retreated, their backs fading into the distance. Despite the excruciating pain that gnawed at my broken bones in my palm, ribs, and head, I refused to surrender.
This world, it was definitely not meant for me.
Pus seeped from my eyes, a telltale sign of mounting anger. One should never turn their back on an enraged adversary.
I pushed myself to my feet, taking a defiant step forward, when a red window with scrolling lines materialized before me:
[Participant 137 has failed the Mission.
Mission:
Survive on the Lower Level of the Arena.
Conditions:
Kill 267 enemies.
Time Remaining:
7 days, 20 hours, and 59 minutes.
Enemies Killed:
4.
Enemies Remaining:
263.]
---
Author's note:
The lower race, being primitive beings, lacked the acute sense of smell possessed by other creatures. In the antagonist's previous body, the ability to detect the scent of decomposition would have allowed for the quick discovery of corpses hanging from the ceiling. However, in participant 137's new decaying body, this once useful ability was tragically lost.
As participant 137 navigated their surroundings, the putrid stench of decay lingered in the air, blending with the sickly sweet odor of pus and boils. Their deteriorated insides could no longer digest food, hastening the already short lifespan of the Loss. While their body was a mere vessel of decomposition, a faint glimmer of life still flickered within.
Of the seven emotions known to the Loss race, only two remained intact—anger and fear. The other five sensations were entirely repelled, leaving participant 137 with a limited range of emotional experiences. Thus, in their dying mind, these few remaining emotions surged beyond the boundaries of self-preservation, manifesting as seething anger and a rapid transition from irritation to aggression. Communication among the Loss was challenging, both with each other and with other creatures. However, in the lower Arena, the Loss proved to be slow yet ideal workers, capable of monotonous tasks devoid of mental strain.
It is important to note that the Loss were not bred within the Arena but originally served alchemists in their pursuit of refining Black Magic potions. The process of decomposition was intricately tied to the utilization of murdered souls and the manipulation of consciousness. Despite the outcry against these inhumane experiments, fueled by the torment and suffering they inflicted, the demand for Black Magic potions persisted. While the Empire strictly prohibited such experiments, the alchemists persisted in their production, creating an unending cycle of pain and anguish.
Black Magic potions were elixirs that held equal status with Spiritual Stones. They offered fast-acting effects and prolonged abilities. However, owing to the immense negative energy they contained, these potions could exacerbate pre-existing wounds and even plunge the mind into confusion or madness. The variations of Black Magic potions were numerous, with some extending the lifespan of individuals within the Empire, while others enhanced physical strength, speed, or intelligence. Among the most common Black Magic potions were those that awakened latent abilities and skills in different races. Such potions were scarce, requiring not only a vast number of souls but also rare ingredients sourced from the far-flung lands of the Ghosts—a formidable race with limited population numbers.